


Flood of Sadness

by CapitalFantasy



Series: Ray of Sunshine [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angry Hunk (Voltron), Cliffhangers, Crying, Eating Disorders, Explicit Language, Gen, Hunk (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Hunk (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Hunk (Voltron)-centric, Hurt Hunk (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapitalFantasy/pseuds/CapitalFantasy
Summary: A stick can bend as far as it may go, but eventually, when pushed too far, will it snap...
Series: Ray of Sunshine [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028472
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	Flood of Sadness

**Author's Note:**

> Its about that time again, to break more readers' hearts.
> 
> PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. There’s about 25 pages worth of this third part, so to give you readers a fair warning, it’s fucking HUGE.

_All that's left will be,  
_ _Your bones._

 _No flesh, no warmth,  
_ _Nothing to love._

 _And still,  
_ _Those dreaded souls will say,_

_"Just not thin enough."  
  
_

_\- a.w._

  
  


Over the course of one week, Hunk had lost count on the amount of times he was randomly confronted and asked the same question. 

Are you okay?

Are you okay they ask. Are you okay they say. Are you okay is the first bloody thing to every single conversation. Those three simple words are what sours Hunk’s mood. Those three simple words are what makes his head spin. Those three simple words are just the three simple words Hunk despises. 

His parents used to say the exact same thing. Are you okay? On Mondays, are you okay? On Tuesdays, are you okay? On every other day of the week that annoying question was brought into light again and again and again.

It was nonstop slaughter for Hunk’s ears. 

The question recalled phantom memories Hunk so exhaustingly used his willpower to lock in a coffin and bury six feet underground. Like zombies, they would unearth to rain hell upon him and if getting very little sleep at night after throwing up a nightly binge was bad, well those memories made it ten times worse. 

The bags under his eyes proved that and Hunk was gradually growing closer to wits end as that damn question was bought up even more thanks to the sleepless nights. 

Why can’t people just leave him the hell alone?! 

He was doing absolutely fine on his own. He didn’t need anyone intruding on his privacy just because Hunk Garret missed breakfast or for nearly tripping over his own feet during training, the clumsy fuck. All of which were one time. One time! 

Having him as their first priority did not sit well for Hunk. He knew he was a burden, so why waste time on something so irrelevant was beyond him. They could be getting on with more important matters, like ending the Galra Empire or saving colonies in need of Voltron - take Shay’s for example.

Instead, they waste their time on him.

Yet again, dumb Hunk had to go and ruin everyone’s fun because dumb Hunk can’t go one day without stumbling all over the place. He had already forever ruined his family with his negligent troubles and he prayed with all his heart the same wouldn’t happen with his new, weird one. 

There was so much to do in so little time and Hunk didn’t want to be the roadblock no one asked for. Sometimes you just have to get on with your problems alone and figure it out yourself, and that was exactly what Hunk was doing.

Turning oneself into a hideous monster was Hunk’s problem. He caused it so he’ll be the one to fix it.

He could do it. He could really, truly do it. The one thing he’ll never screw up and if he did, well he’d take his mistakes to the grave - that way, no one will ever have to prioritise their time cleaning the mess his fat ass leaves behind. 

The last time someone tried to help Hunk with his eating habits, the result hurt him even more and he fell into a deeper, darker hole with oh so little light of hope. Nothing was ever going to change his mindset. He was ugly - everyone knew it, but out of pity they wronged him saying “you’re perfect”, “you’re not fat”, “don’t be so hard on yourself” or “I wish I was like you”. 

Trust me, no one wanted to be like him.

Hunk was sick of their pity and tired of their lies. Why would anyone want to be as imperfect as he is? He was a walking disaster and a sorry excuse for a son. Just drop him off at the pigsty and he’ll be right at home. 

All Hunk wished for was to be left alone so he can deal with his own problems without having to worry over interference. Of course he’ll lie whenever his mental wellbeing was dropped into a conversation. No one needed to know; Hunk had it all under control.

Very soon, he wouldn’t be a fat pig anymore. 

He’d been doing this for nearly three months now and no one suspected a thing. A pant on the back for Hunk here for doing so well at keeping something as upsettingly massive as this a secret. Gradually, the stench of food made Hunk sick, his stomach churning like a washing machine. During meals, he would excuse himself and dump all the cut pieces of food stored in his napkin into the toilet.

All though Hunk could feel a difference, seeing it became the issue. All though his clothes were baggy, he still feels the seams stretch and waistband grow taunt as his belly revoltingly presses up against it. All though the small, double chin had vanished out of existence, Hunk’s third eye saw otherwise and that double chin had swollen into a third and now approximating a fourth. 

All though Hunk had lost weight, he was still gaining...

So for the last three weeks, Hunk had upped the nightly binge until his abused stomach could not handle the overload and after inefficacious begging, all it’s content would discard over the kitchen counter and floor. However, Hunk wasn’t there to play games and despite throwing up, a glass of water instantly cleared the inside of his mouth and he continued shoving down more food. 

The first time this happened, Hunk immediately searched for deep cleaning equipment - which took up most of the night - and now keeps a shelf under the sink full of the stuff. Deep cleaning meant Hunk started to stay up later at night as the vomiting persisted and became more violent. Yes, his sleeping pattern had been detriment - not to mention the change in his mood swings - but everything was going according to plan and nothing was going to stop him.

Wiping his mouth with a sleeve, Hunk huffs and puffs as the loud sound of water flushing down the toilet rings through the air. The vile smell of vomit slowly disperses and Hunk can finally breathe as the anxiety of getting caught fades and he can tick off another successful night. 

For a while now, Hunk found himself desperately catching his breath each time he finished puking his guts out. It didn’t scare him, more-so rather puzzled him. He’d been training in secret everyday, so surely his stamina would’ve improved by some extent and here he was, gasping for air like a beached fish in need of water. 

Maybe he was dehydrated? 

Yeah, that’s probably it. Hunk couldn’t recall the last time water touched his lips. Drinking water was the sine qua non to staying hydrated. Sighing, Hunk allows the time for his lungs to regain their breath and so for the next five minutes, knees glued to the floor, he waits.

An arm resting on the toilet seat; the other slack against the smooth tiles, Hunk is suddenly hit by a wave of nausea; albeit surprised, he gently rubs a hand over his aching stomach in a circular motion. Despite touching the disgusting fat, Hunk knew it was a great way to settle his discomforted stomach, so with a little help of biting his tongue, he continued rubbing and bit by bit, it more or less did the job. 

Soon the nausea dispels, leaving Hunk wondering just where did it come from? Of course when you’ve been sick - or forced yourself to be - after you feel a little discomfort, your fingertips cold and trembling, your arms covered in goosebumps and most of all, your voice sounding like a croaking frog because your throat is so sore. Hunk felt all of those when he finished vomiting and stinking the room out, but never felt nauseous, especially that quick and that strong.

That literally came from nowhere with no indication, no heads-up, heck, a little warning would’ve been nice, but no - it came at full speed and hit Hunk so hard, he honestly thought he was going to throw up once more. 

To say the least, Hunk was not discouraged and quickly forgot about it like today’s news is tomorrow’s fish and chip paper. He starts to consider moving up off the floor and heading to bed to try and see if tonight would be any better in the sleep department. No face mask of Lance’s was going to annihilate the heavy, black bags drooping down from under his eyelids.

Insomnia had always been something Hunk suffered with randomly - one night, he’d be in deep slumber; others he was no different to a night owl. Yet, as the purging continued throughout the given weeks while floating aimlessly in space, it seemed as though Hunk was slowly losing control of not only his eating habits, but himself as well. Physically, emotionally, and more worryingly enough, mentally.

As doubt and certainty clash, Hunk begins to chew his bottom lip out of anxiety and stress. His head was plagued by thoughts, good and bad, and it was creating a rather troubling situation as Hunk couldn’t decide which side to side with. There were so many good things and so many bad things running wild in his head, it’s no shock he started to feel dizzy and a little lightheaded.

Suddenly, a copper-like taste invades his tastebuds. It wasn’t overpowering but it’s enough to make Hunk’s brain stumble, like when you trip over a crack on the sidewalk. As soon as his mouth opens, something metallic dribbles down his plump lip. Wiping a sleeve over it, he looks down and is instantly spooked.

A streak of red stains the yellow fabric enveloping his arm in delightful warmth. Blood. No matter how little or how faint, blood was blood and it had come out between Hunk’s lips. He doesn’t remember feeling pain from biting his lip. In fact, he doesn’t remember biting at all. 

This night sure proved to be a mystery which left Hunk at a dead end. Nothing was making sense. First, the nausea and now the _blood_? What? Was Hunk hallucinating or is this really happening? Mind at war, he decides to head to bed and leave this night in the past; collecting dust and turning to rust. 

But then, an irritating tickle scratches the back of his throat. Hunk doesn’t have anytime to think before an onslaught of harsh coughs spew out from his mouth.

As he uses the coughs to try and kill the tickling irritation, that is when _it_ happens...

Fresh droplets of blood litter the toilet seat, some sinking their way down below into the water’s depths. Hunk doesn’t notice it at first for his eyes were closed when coughing but the moment he opens them, his body turns to stone. 

Okay, the coughing fit, fine. The throwing up, debatable. The blood...? In no state of mind did Hunk plan for that. If anyone ever told him otherwise, Hunk would’ve laughed. Honest to God he would’ve laughed. He would’ve laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks or his stomach hurt. He would’ve laughed. 

He didn’t. 

Shock, as cold as ice, freezes his veins; his heart leaps out of his chest as the fear plants it’s roots and quickly spreads like Japanese knotweed inside Hunk’s body. You’d think he’d panic, have a breakdown and lose his mind...

Surprisingly, Hunk doesn’t - he simply rips off some toilet paper, wipes all the visible blood away and flushes the worrying evidence Down the toilet as if it meant nothing. It was gone in a blink of an eye and Hunk remained quiet. He did not speak a word, he did not bat an eyelid; all he did was stand, walk away and retreat under the safety of his blanket. 

He closes his eyes and allows the darkness to consume him...

* * *

_“...Hunk...”_

_“...Hunk...!”_

_“...HUNK...!”_

**“HUNK!”**

A sharp gasp shoots out of Hunk as his eyes snap open, only to close them just as quick for a bright light wickedly blinds him. After building up resistance does he find himself opening his eyes without feeling pain. 

When did the bedroom light become so intense? That, however, is soon forgotten as Hunk takes note of something odd...

His back rests against a surface that is solid, flat and very uncomfortable. It was nothing like the mattress he was sure he feel asleep on not too long ago. Whereas that had been snugly warm, this was freezing cold.

Oh God, had his bed finally broke in half and he was now laying down on the floor? Was that why he woke up? To see the humiliating accomplishment his obesity has done? 

White-hot flames of embarrassment and shame blister and scar every inch of his skin; the intruding thoughts so evil and destructive weaken his poor heart of such scrutiny. Sitting up off the cold floor, whatever scenario Hunk previously assembled in his head was quickly demolished. He was right about one thing - he was on the floor, just not in his bedroom.

Instead, Hunk found himself shrinking under the intense glare of two glowing eyes belonging to the mighty yellow lion. His body he once thought of being a blue whale now feels like the petite size of a mouse as the yellow lion bears down with a powerful intensity that steals Hunk's breath. 

A low growl rattles the back of his head and Hunk swears he hears a gruff voice whisper his name. Where has he heard that voice before? It sounded so familiar...

It all leads back to the giant robot standing in front of him. In all his years, Hunk had never felt so transfixed by something so majestic. The lion’s glare is spellbinding and the more Hunk stared back, the more he could see a brighter light shimmer in the centre of the lion’s eyes. Something was beckoning him, calling for him; he could feel his body be pulled by an invisible rope as the lion continues to stare him down.

Did the lion move closer or had he? He can’t recall standing up and walking closer to the lion’s face. He was so close. So close, in fact, he felt like his fingertips would brush the smooth metal of the lion’s snout if he raises a hand.

The thundering growl in his head rumbles louder until it shakes his bones and bursts his eardrums. It grew so sonorously loud, an echo booms against the walls of his thick skull but Hunk couldn’t find the will to look away as he lifts a hand of such carefulness to the huge snout of the lion. 

Just as his fingertips scarcely graze the scratched metal...

“Hunk?” 

A voice as angelic as an angel drifts softly through the air. Shivers run down his spine and the hand that was raised is frozen mid-air. Tears begin to form in his eyes for Hunk knew that voice all too well and he had started to fear he’d forget what it’d sound like for it had been some time since he’d last heard it. 

He turns around...

How his parents still willingly stood by his side through all the trouble he caused them bewilders him, and though Hunk felt like he wasn’t worth anyone’s time and money, apparently his parents did because they were standing right in front of him. 

“Sweetheart?” The same smile, the same eyes, the same hair. Hunk prayed his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him for standing in all her glory and kindliness, is his mom. The twinkle in her eyes and the dimples as she smiles is just as Hunk remembers.

He couldn’t believe it. “M-mom...? Dad...?”

His parents - his loving, caring parents are standing right in front of him! From the look of it, they haven’t changed the tiniest bit (not that he wants them to). Here they were, inside the yellow lion’s hangar and standing side by side as they look on at their perfectly imperfect son. 

“How ya doin’, son?” His father chuckles lightly. The affable sound makes Hunk’s heart leap and a smile worms it’s way onto his face as his brain finally catches up from the aftershock. 

“D-Dad...” lost for words, Hunk glances back and forth between his parents, “h-how did you two-"

“You’re looking so well, Hunk.” His mom cuts him off, smiling warmly. “You look very happy.”

Happy didn’t cut it. More like over the moon and past the stars, or, can’t put into words the absolute euphoria he feels - that kind of happy. How he longed for the moment he could be reunited in his parents’ arms, safe and sound. 

“Y-yeah.” His voice breaking a little as he holds back tears. “I am. I’m s-so happy.”

A smile grows on his mom’s face. She reaches out a hand. “You can come home now.” 

Home? Now? As in, right now? But what about defending the universe? Saving people from the control of Zarkon? What about Voltron?

“Come home, son.” Hunk lifts his head up at the sound of his father’s voice. A soft grin has appeared on his face, but there was something.... unsettling behind it. Hunk couldn’t quite make out what it was but something was there, hiding in the shadows of his father’s face; lurking behind his brown eyes like a camouflaged lion ready to strike.

Pulling back a bit, Hunk stutters, “b-but my team need me..” and he glances behind to face the yellow lion, only to be startled by a wall of black and the lion nowhere in sight.

“They don’t.” 

The bitter sharpness bites his mother’s tone. Never, had his mother spoken to him like that. Turning back around, if the yellow lion's disappearance wasn't startling enough, the sight of his mother obstructing his vision finished the job as Hunk nearly trips over his feet.

He quickly acknowledges the hanger had magically transformed into the castle’s kitchen and his father was nowhere to be seen.

Without blinking or breathing, his mom stands strange and bizarre and very, very close. Goosebumps litter Hunk’s skin when a crooked grin appears on her face; lips spreading wider and wider the bigger the grin grows.

“They don’t need you.” She says, eyes wide as they stare back at Hunk. “They never need you.”

The air grows cold. “W-what?” A shocked Hunk stutters. “Mom, what are talking-"

“They never wanted you. They never did. Who would ever want a pig like you?”

A gasp shoots out of Hunk. He pulls back as her grin grows impossibly wider. She leans in closer and closer as she continues to spit vulgar insults.

“You stupid pig. You ugly, repulsive monster. You’ve ruined me! You’ve ruined my life!”

This was all his fault. Every little mistake was made by him. He wasn’t a blessing. He never was. Instead, he was a curse. An ugly one at the most. “No. No, no, no, no. I-I can change. I can change mom. I-I will change! Please-”

“I asked for a son!” She starts hysterically screaming. Heavy streams of tears flood her cheeks. “I asked FOR A SON! INSTEAD, I GET YOU! I GET A FAT, FUCKING PIG!”

Choking on air, any thought of calming his mother down goes flying out the window as her vile words stab Hunk like sharp knives. He didn’t want to believe it, not a single word did he want to believe....

But he did. 

All those times his mother or his father or anyone else ever told him he wasn’t fat, he wasn’t ugly or he wasn’t a pig, he tried so hard to believe their words. He’d try with all his might until he made himself sick from exhaustion. Yet, the devil on his shoulder said otherwise. It made Hunk believe in the wrong, made him see the bad from the good and trick him into its evil scheme of whispering lies down his ear to where it hurt the most. 

They didn’t mean it. They only said that to make Hunk feel better and get him off their backs. They did it because Hunk would not shut the hell up and take his problems elsewhere. They did because he was so blind to see his mistakes, and now thanks to his mother’s words, Hunk can truly see it.

It wasn’t because he _thought_ he was a pig. It’s because he _is_ a pig. Nothing more and nothing less...

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BECOME MY SON?!” Hunk’s mother hollers like a banshee. Hunk stands frozen to the spot as she furiously continues her rant. “WHY DID A PIG LIKE YOU JOIN OUR FAMILY?! YOU’VE RUINED OUR LIVES! I SHOULD’VE NEVER GIVEN BIRTH TO YOU!” 

With that, the tears begin to fall as Hunk’s poor heart fractures. He fruitlessly tries to speak but it sounded like he was gasping for air. “M-m-mom.... I-I..”

“ **I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN TO LOOK AT YOU!** ”

The pain is numb like frostbite and his emotions turn as dry as a drought. Those words were the exact words Hunk had been longing for to seal the heartbreaking truth he had tried to hide from after all these years.

The cat had finally caught the mouse.

His world comes crashing down in an instant and Hunk wants nothing more than for the ground to swallow him up. Except, it doesn’t and what actually comes next Hunk could’ve never prepared for...

As his mother visibly grows angrier by the second, the flood of tears on her face turn a strange hue, almost like a wash-out red. It’s then Hunk realises to his absolute horror that the once clear liquid is now the very thing that runs through his veins.

Thicker than water and redder than red, blood trickles down her cheeks and neck in wonky lines as her eyes pump the rich substance out, staining her fair skin below. 

“YOU’VE CAUSED ME SO MUCH PAIN!” She screams at the top of her voice and Hunk hears a scratchy tone underlying her voice. It was somewhat... demonic. “YOU’RE SO FUCKING WORTHLESS!”

Her skin begins to split and crack as her natural, curly locks strangely morph to a flimsy, slimy appearance. It doesn’t take long for Hunk to recognise its familiarity. He had cooked with this ingredient a few times in the past. You heard me - ingredient.

To his morbid horror, her hair was no longer hair. Instead, growing out of his mother’s scalp, was long strings of spaghetti. Literally. Hunk couldn’t believe his eyes as wet, slimy stripes of linguine wiggle like worms out from her scalp and reach for the ground underneath her feet, growing past her shoulders and nearing hip length.

“M-mom..?” he gasps, utterly mortified by her weird, yet disgusting transformation. “Wh-what’s happening to you..?”

Raging rivers of blood continue to gush out of his mother’s eyes and Hunk can definitely make out a bizarre change of her voice the more she hurls vile words at him. His attention is seized when another strange phenomenon occurs inside her eyes and he closely observes as a sickly scarlet infects them.

But it wasn’t the odd colour that makes his skin crawl...

A scream shoots out from Hunk as he watches her eyes roll backwards, but instead of seeing tiny veins and the usual white of her eyeballs, the texture looks to be very bumpy and a dark brown.

Stomach twisting, Hunk is an unlucky victim to watch his mother’s horrific transformation as her eyes now look like meatballs covered in a thin gloss blood and grease. With a sickening crack and a gag from Hunk, her jaw breaks, leaving it hanging loosely. 

Gurgles swim over one another at the back of her throat before a pool of blood pools over her tongue and out her mouth. It was incredibly distressing and rather unpleasant watching his own mother transform into a gruesome, living portrait of food - to watch her disintegrate into the very thing that made his life a living hell.

“M-m-m-mom...”

Any chance she would’ve screamed horrible insults were diminished, large gurgles replacing it while spurting more blood out her mouth. Her clothes were completely ruined by the overflow of the red liquid staining the fabric, leaving behind a rich, copper scent which Hunk gags at.

The skin on her face begins to dip like wrinkles and the locks of wriggling spaghetti starts to break away from her scalp. Every time a string of slimy hair hits the floor, Hunk flinches as he watches in horror her face melt away, looking very much like ice cream under the hot sun.

Suddenly, Hunk’s ears pick up a series of cracks and pops and when he looks down to see what’s causing the sounds, his blood turns to ice.

Rips emerge in the skin by her elbows, gradually growing longer and wider until a sickening _POP_ ends with a lower arm dislocating; all the torn skin finally breaking away. Hunk screams as her left arm falls to the floor. It is quickly met by her right arm as that too breaks away from her body and falls onto the ground.

Hunk is left feeling generously nauseous, and when his mother’s eyes pop out their sockets with a disgusting squelch, he decides enough is enough. Fully aware this monster was no longer his beloved mother and he was wickedly tricked to believe it was, Hunk musters up the strength to look away and without telling his feet what to do, they are already on the move as he hurriedly turns and runs away.

Immediately he is caught off-guard by loud voices rising from the thin air. Hunk grasps the sides of his head as the voices overlap and violently attack with malevolent insults. 

_**“YOU PIG!”** _

_**“DESERVE TO BURN IN HELL!”** _

**_“SUCH A DISGRACE!”_ **

_**“HORRIBLE MONSTROSITY!”** _

_**“GO TO HELL YOU FOUL PIG!”** _

_**“YOU’RE SO FAT AND UGLY!”** _

**_“MAKES ME FEEL SICK!”_ ** _**“KILL YOURSELF!”** _

_**“YOU’VE RUINED OUR LIVES!”** _

_**“WHY DID I GET A PIG FOR A SON?!”** _

_**“GET LOST PIGGY!”** _

_**“FUCKING DISGUSTING!”** _

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Hunk pleads. He can feel the formation of tears begin as he closes his eyes to try and block out the raging voices. “Leave me alone! Please!” 

However the raw distress shaking Hunk’s voice feeds the hungry voices, keeping them heedlessly satisfied. Hunk’s pleas fell on death ears, so against his wishes, they keep attacking him again and again and again...

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Hunk cries in desperation as the voices cynically merge into those Hunk holds close to his heart and begged to be reunited with. “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANYMORE!”

_**“SUCH A PIG!”** _

Hunk swats the air in a futile attempt to rid the horrible voice that wickedly impersonates his loving father. 

“NO MORE! PLEASE! JUST GO AWAY!” The tears begin falling as his willpower disintegrates. “GO AWAY!”

_**“SO FAT IT MAKES ME SICK!”** _

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Turning to the left, Hunk is unaware of the path his feet journey on. The only thing he wants more than anything is to get away from the pain and suffering the voices inflict. “SHUT! UP!”

_**“You’re disgusting. Did you know that?”** _

A hiccup escapes from between his lips. “I know. I know.”

**_“SAY IT THEN, YOU PIG!”_ **

“I’m disgusting!” Hunk breaks into waterworks, throat raw as he gasps and hiccups for air. “I’m so disgusting and s-so... so f-f-fat and... and s-so horrible... and... and...”

_**“AND WHAT?! SAY IT!”** _

“..and...and...and..”

_**“SAY IT! SAY IT!”**_

“..and...and..”

_**“SAY IT!”** _

* * *

  
“Quiznak!” Lance exclaims, nearly falling off his stool when the metal bowl Hunk held suddenly clatters to the floor. 

It too startles Hunk who’s mind had drifted off into space. Blinking in shock, he looks down and curses at the mess he’d made.

“Shoot! Sorry about that Lance.” He apologises. _‘Great job Hunk, you did it again. God, can you not go and cause problems just for one day!? Jeez, how hard can it be?!’_

As he grabs ahold of some paper towels, Lance watches from afar. “It’s fine.” He replies then asks, “Need some help?”

Hunk shakes his head while keeping an eye on the running water hitting the paper towels clutched in his hands. Once they’re wet enough, he turns the tap off, gives the towel a little squeeze to rinse away any excess before kneeling down to the clumpy, green gunk splotched on the tiles.

“I’m good.” Says Hunk as the sticky batter is collected into the wet napkins. Lance nods but continues watching, even though Hunk was out of view. Chunks of rainbow cubes spin around a tornado of milk as Lance mindlessly twirls the spoon inside his bowl.

“Hey, er, Pidge wanted me to tell you something.”

Hunk’s knees pop when he stands. Without making eye contact, he walks over to the bin as he says, “oh yeah...?”

Lance waits until the dirty napkins are no longer clutched in Hunk’s grasp but at the bottom of the bin instead before continuing. “Yeah. Something about upgrades....for the yellow lion. She said she’d need your help later on, y’know? Since you’re the big-brain mechanic guy.”

The complimentary joke falls flat. Unlike Lance, Hunk’s brain takes it a _very_ different way.

“More like big-bellied, dumb pig.” He grumbles under his breath. He flicks the tap on and the water immediately gushes out, the sharp sound striking the air with fury.

Lance’s blue eyes, which, for one second, had looked down to his bowl of cereal, look back up at Hunk when he hears an angry tone paint his friend’s usual cheery voice.

“What was that?” Hunk hears Lance ask. He turns off the raucous tap and looks up at him. “What was what?”

Lance bites the inside of his lip. _‘He’s dodging my question._ ’

“Oh, well I, er...n-nothing. I just thought you said something, that’s all.” 

Hunk’s mouth moves on its own. “Well I didn’t, okay?” 

The metal spoon drops from Lance’s slender fingers and clatters against the bowl’s rim as his mind runs a marathon. Now he is 1000% sure something is up with his giant teddy bear. Clearly something had upset him, and one way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of it.

That’s what friends are for, right?

 _'Come on Lance, say something to him!_ _Ask if he's okay or if there's something on his mind he needs to talk about? Just something!’_

"So...whatcha making?" _‘Not that!’_

While Lance mentally slaps himself ( _‘Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!’_ ), Hunk takes the time to look at his friend, putting a pause on his baking. He raises an eyebrow as Lance abruptly face palms himself.

If Hunk was being completely honest, he’d say Lance looks a little peeved. Not knowing for sure, he simply assumes it’s just Lance being Lance, so he ignores the blue paladin who had ruffled his own feathers and resumes folding a second batch of green, fattening sludge using his trusty wooden spoon inside of a large mixing bowl.

Watching the sloppy mixture tumble around and around quickly makes Hunk’s stomach do somersaults. The feeling of anxiety begins to build as Hunk knows that if he doesn’t try and settle his stomach, all hell was about to break loose. 

Why on Earth did he leave his bed this morning just to come down here and whip up some disgusting concoction that would only be scarfed down into his fat belly tonight?

It’ll only make him bigger, uglier, fatter, but most of all, more disgusting. He was already a pig and _this_ didn’t help in the weight department. Forget immobile - soon he’d be the behemoth size of a whale if the calories kept mounting.

That monster in his dream last night was right. He is fucking disgusting and a downright slob at the most. Suddenly, it becomes crystal clear.

Everyone would be better off without him...

Hunk grits his teeth as he slows down on the mixing. “Just something new.” He forces, “It’s nothing interesting.” 

Unfortunately, if any of the others caught him making new tasty and delicious foods, they’d always ask Hunk questions only he could answer (he was the chef after all), so to his frustration, Lance grew interested and began asking him questions. Usually Hunk wouldn’t mind their childlike curiosity as it was clear everyone enjoyed whatever he cooked. 

However, at this moment of time, things were going to be a little bit different, starting with Hunk wanting Lance to shut the hell up! 

The flipping in his stomach thankfully didn’t get any worse, but it wasn’t getting any better. He was doing the breathing techniques he’d always used to calm down the raging waves rocking back and forth in his bottomless gut, but it was hardly making any difference.

This wasn’t good for Hunk’s growing aggravation and still, off to the side, Lance continued with his good-hearted rambling. He had become so blinded by the bittersweet memories of his family eating and having a good time that he didn’t see Hunk’s face scrunch in irritation the more he talked about his mother’s recipes.

“She’d make the best _fricassé de pollo_ in the world..”

Hunk feels his fingers press aggressively into the underside of the bowl. His stomach grumbles unhappily at the sound of such greasy and fattening food. He forces a swallow.

“That’s nice Lance.” His voice tight as the anger bubbles. 

But Lance remains oblivious and continues talking. “And don’t get me started on her tres leches cake....” 

Cake? The thing that makes him feel so fat and disgusting? The thing that makes his rolls multiply as his body grows bigger and bigger until he looks like a whale?

The pounding in Hunk’s head feels like someone was throwing rocks at his skull; the waves in his stomach grew from rip curls to towering tsunamis. He needed Lance to stop, to stop talking about food, to stop talking about the very thing Hunk loathes.

To stop talking as it was making him feel sick, _very_ sick.

“Okay Lance, I get it.”

Lance still doesn’t notice. “..so many delicious foods...”

Oh God, his stomach feels like a circus acrobat, just spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning.

“That’s enough Lance.” But it falls on deaf ears.

“...mi abuela showed me how to...”

_**“Look at you.”** _

Hunk freezes. The spoon stops turning as his body becomes a statue. _‘No.’_

_**“So pathetic.”** _

_‘Please, no.’_ Fear burns his skin like a hot flame as an evil voice with an evil desire suddenly intrudes his already troubled mind. _‘Not right now.’_

“....recipes were the best...”

_**“What’s wrong, piggy? You sick or something?”** _

_‘I’m not sick. I’m not sick.’_

_**“Yes you are. You’re sick. You’re so very sick.”** _

_‘I’m not sick. I-I’m not sick...mommy help.’_

_**“Mommy is not here, little pig. She gave up. They all gave up. All because of you.”** _

_‘No. No that’s... that’s not true.’_

**_“They gave up on you. How do you feel? How do you feel knowing they gave up on you?”_ **

_‘They didn’t. They didn’t.’_

**_“You must feel horrible. Ashamed. So sick and tired of yourself.”_ **

_‘I’m not... I’m not sick. I’m not sick!’_

_**“So worthless...so pathetic...so disgusting..”** _

_‘Stop it. Please, I’m not sick. Mama... Papa... please..’_

_**“Such a pig. Such a disgusting, fat, stupid pig! Am I right about that? Tell me piggy..”**_

_‘Stop it!’_

_**“It’s disgusting how fat you are. How fat you’ve become.”** _

_‘Stop it! Stop it! Mama, please!’_

_**“Fat.”** _

_‘I’m not sick! I’m not... I’m not...’_

_**“Fat, fat, fat, fat, fat!”** _

_‘P-please! Stop!’_

_**“So fucking fat!”** _

_‘Stop it! STOP!’_

_**“A FAT FUCKING PIG!”** _

_‘STOP!’_

As the pain and the misery and the anger near breaking point, Hunk’s quivering body is unnoticed by Lance, who smiles dolefully as to being so far, far away from his beloved family.

“I really miss her.” Suddenly he lights up, “Hey! I remembered her recipe for garlic knots. _¡Gracias a Dios!_ Maybe I should try and make some. She did teach me after all.”

And like an overly bent twig, Hunk snaps...

“THEN MAKE IT YOUR DAMN SELF!”

Strings of wet batter fly up into the air as the bowl slams onto the counter. The loud BANG of the impact terrifies Lance and he launches a few inches up off his stool. His eyes snap up to Hunk. 

Immediately he is struck by the sheer redness painting his cheeks and ears. His brows are pulled tight and a tremor shakes his body. Never had he seen Hunk looking so mighty pissed. 

One thing’s for sure: this was not the Hunk he knew.

Lance stutters Hunk’s name but said person is too infuriated to notice. Instead, he watches the anger darken when Hunk looks down and clenches his teeth as clumps of the sticky batter stick to his arms, t-shirt and trousers. Some bits even found themselves lodged in strands of hair above the headband. 

It was at this moment, Lance realised something completely odd. Hunk wasn’t wearing his apron.

He never cooked without it. 

“Great.” He hears the yellow paladin seethe before he walks away from the counter in line for the door. Some invisible force pushes Lance up off the stool and he strides over to his troubled friend.

A hand reaches out as Lance tenderly calls for him, but it quickly pulls away from the furious glare Hunk sends his way.

His eyes narrow. “Back. Off.” 

Lance’s burrows tighten. This was definitely not Hunk. Who was this doppelgänger and where was the real Hunk?

“H-Hunk...?”

But Hunk ignores him and turns to face the door he walks up to. He doesn’t flinch or jump when the door panels suddenly slide open and in walks Pidge.

“Hey guys- whoa!” She yelps as Hunk unintentionally bumps into her shoulder. Before she can say anything the doors slide shut, signifying Hunk’s abrupt departure.

While that was quite rude and uncalled for, Pidge didn’t feel an ounce of anger or annoyance as out the corner of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of Hunk’s face. It did not sit well for her. 

She quickly looks to Lance, who was stood frozen on the spot. There was no need of literal communication for the moment their eyes lock, were they positively certain they’re feeling the exact same...

* * *

It had been some time since Hunk returned to his dormitory and as the clock ticked by, he had absolutely no intention of leaving any time soon. To his frustration, the feeling of anger remained, sizzling inside of him like fat on a hot grill and as much as he tries blocking it out, it continues to consume him.

The good memories cruelly twist into horrid flashbacks of utter misery and sadness Hunk spent years fighting to stay afloat as dark storms of depression rained down upon him.

Hunk’s brow tightens. His childhood should be filled with joy, happiness and laughter. It should be something he’d look back on and say to his future children that growing up is the best part of being a kid. 

But the chances of _that_ happening were practically slim. Hell, probably nonexistent! 

What was he supposed to say? That Daddy grew up morbidly obese and wished to leave the body he was cursed to live in? That he felt utterly miserable every single day as a kid? 

Some childhood...

At least he was safe and far away from the disgusting food awaiting inside the kitchen. He certainly didn’t need more calories plumping him up like a force-fed chicken at an industrial farm. He was fat enough as it is, not to mention this bastard cough will not go away!

Hunk spent nearly all of last night throwing up a very bad nightly binge his stomach quite rightly hadn’t forgiven him for.

After storming out the kitchen, his throat sore, Hunk’s mind became a playground for the voices to spew insults relentlessly down his ears. Luckily he hadn’t run into anyone else on the way back (thank goodness), but it wasn’t until about midway, Hunk faced a sudden interception...

His back bent and his knees shook as a slaughter of sharp coughs rushed out from his throbbing throat. To help his weakened balance, a hand placed itself against the smooth wall as Hunk’s feared he’d tip over because his legs felt incredibly weak. They trembled more and more as the coughing ensued.

He was practically wheezing by the end, gasping for air; his lungs deflated like two whoopee cushions. Hunk rightened his posture and slowly drew in a breath, thinking the worst was over. That had been happening more often - one cough turning to a thousand. Truth be told, it didn’t scare him, not even the tiniest bit..

It’s what came with it that did...

Suddenly, an all-too-familiar tickle begins to claw its way up his throat and before Hunk has anytime to comprehend, another set of coughs erupt in a ferocious wave. This was starting to get old real fast. As soon as one fit ends, another begins. At this rate, he was coughing more than he was breathing! 

_‘Oh this is ridiculous!’_ Hunk angrily thinks as the coughing makes it troublesome to speak, let alone breathe. God, his throat feels _so_ sore and don’t even get him started on his stomach. Any more and he’s sure to cough up his organs all over the bedroom floor.

Just like the other times, a funny taste reappears alongside the phlegm. It travels up the walls of his throat before finding the inside of his mouth. As he coughs some more, Hunk feels something finely spray the skin of his palm that’s clamped over his lips. 

About five minutes pass before the coughing begins to subside. Hunk waits a little longer just to be sure the coast was clear and when no more coughing ensues, the hand is pulled away as he heaves heavy gasps. 

Every time the coughing winded him more. Every. Single. Bloody. Time. Hunk never knew losing your breath could be so easily accomplished - then again he was overweight. Gradually regaining most of his breath back, it’s then, amidst the raw pain in his throat, his eyes spot something worryingly familiar...

Driblets of red trickle down the tiny wrinkles embedded into his skin as he looks down upon his open palm.

 _‘Okay, it’s okay,’_ his brain reassures him while his hand unconsciously wipes the blood onto his yellow t-shirt, which clings tightly to his sickly round abdomen. _‘It’s okay, nothing happened. It’s okay.’_

Never had there been this much blood before.

Ever since that night when he threw up and found blood in his vomit, Hunk knew something was seriously wrong with him, so when a hand moves towards his stomach was he in for a hella surprise. The moment his fingertips brush against the blubbery fat, it felt as if he’d been shot in the gut. 

The pain is instant and intense. His fingers immediately recoil as Hunk grimaces as the sudden explosion of discomfort stabs every inch of his pendulous gut. 

“Ow! Sssshit!” Curses Hunk, wincing in pain. Now _that_ had never happened before. Is this what being shot in the stomach feels like?

His teeth grit when a final blow of pain pounds against his abdomen walls before it finally simmers down. Groans flow out from his mouth as he can feel his stomach start throbbing with mild cramps. It no longer hurt, but became _very_ uncomfortable and Hunk dared not to touch his incredibly sensitive middle in fear of feeling that horrible pain again. 

_KNOCK! KNOCK!_

"Hunk?" Oh crap! Its Keith! 

Without even thinking, Hunk sits up but comes to regret it instantly as a wave of discomfort washes over him. He gently places a hand against the side of his gut while flinching as it comes in contact with the side rolls. He scowls in disgust. 

"What is it?" Surprising himself by the raw bitterness biting his tone. _‘Oh well done Hunk. You've official earned the title of a complete dick.’_

Behind the closed doors, his ears pick up on the light shuffling of Keith's boots and he can picture the frown set on his face when he responds.

"Pidge is waiting for you in Yellow's hanger. Something about upgrades she needs your help on..." a moment of pause," But yeah, s-she's waiting, so..."

Hunk chuckles. As much as Keith tries, it’s evidently clear his social awkwardness is too strong to hide. 

_**“At least he’s making an effort, unlike you...”** _

“Tell her I’ll be there soon.” Hunk tells him as he stands up off the bed, mindful of his stomach’s sensitivity. He walks over to the coat hanger to grab his olive polar vest while Keith’s voice fills the background. 

“Okay...” another moment of silence before, “Are you...okay?”

There it is again. That dumb, stupid question. Honestly, is it possible to go for five minutes without hearing “are you okay”? Every corner Hunk turns, are you okay? Every door he opens or closes, are you okay? Everything he does, are you okay?

He grits his teeth and just about manages to spit out a quick, “yes" while swallowing down the growing anger. _'Now please, please go away-'_  
  
“Are you sure?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Keith! Yes! For the one-thousandth time, YES! Okay?! A FUCKING YES!” - is what Hunk nearly screams, the anger now skimming the rim as he is able to hold it back with a _very_ loose screw.

“Positive.” Comes his forced reply. 

Outside, Keith sighs. “O-okay. I’ll, er, I-I’ll go and tell her then.” And like that, Keith was no more; his receding footsteps allow Hunk to breathe a long-awaited sigh of relief.

 _‘Well, I guess I’m needed.’_ He thinks and the large vest is pulled over his yellow t-shirt. _‘Time to screw up more things.’_

_**“Like you always do.”**_

Maybe it was out of habit or maybe it could’ve been how the voice rubs salt into his wounds, Hunk unconsciously tugs at the t-shirt's hem. His lips curl when his fingertips graze the droopy, lower abdomen which revoltingly hangs over his pant’s waistline - its button lost under a thick shelf of fat. 

He kisses his teeth. “Tch!”

His fingers let go of the hem and he pulls his hand to the side. A sour taste attacks his tastebuds when he feels his arm brush against one of his paunchy hips. Looking down, dread fills him. The seams look ready to burst, the stitches ridiculously stressed as it fights to contain his elephantine mass. 

_**“So disgusting. It makes me sick.”** _

With the thoughts weighing down on him and the voice evermore controlling, Hunk walks over to the closed doors. A dark cloud, gloomy and evil, obscures his mind into a spiral of black. The door automatically slides open, allowing him to leave. It closes behind him and the room is drowned into an ocean of silence...

...and lying in the darkness, alone and forgotten, is an orange bandana...

* * *

  
A knife would’ve been put to good use as the silence filling the many corridors of the Castle of Lions is agonisingly dense. In the very centre will you find Hunk, who doesn’t peep a word and looks completely hollow. He shows no emotion...

_**“Why don’t you just go away?”** _

Hunk says nothing, lips glued shut. His heart clenches as he feels the voice’s lips curl maliciously. 

_**“Make everyone’s wish come true and disappear.”** _

He doesn’t fight back. He doesn’t do anything. Instead, he lets the voice trample over him. The anger and hatred fill his head like a black hole. 

_**“Kill yourself!”** _

Something claws at the back of his throat. As his feet continue walking, a clenched fist is pulled up to his parting lips and Hunk coughs into it. It helps a little and when his hand pulls away, not once does he look down; the fresh blood staining every inch of his skin is ultimately brushed aside. Put that aside, it wouldn’t hurt to say he felt, with every passing second, he grew that little bit more tired. 

Legs made out of lead and feet stuck in blocks of concrete, it’s a painstakingly slow journey to the yellow lion’s hanger. Each step feels heavier than the last and the stomach cramps were suddenly worsening.

Hunk sighs heavily, though it sounds like he’s gasping for air. He just feels tired and if he doesn't stop walking soon enough, there's a good chance someone is going to come across a limp body face-down in the middle of the corridor.

_**“If you weren’t so fat maybe you wouldn’t be as tired.”** _

An indescribable force erupts inside of him and Hunk finds himself pushing his debilitated body to wits end. Sweat streams down his forehead, acting as super glue as a bunch of wild locks stick to the wet, flushed skin. His lungs practically overwork to suck in a bubble, a grain of air - something to help their crying starvation. 

Wheezing, Hunk moves onward, hell-bent on reaching the yellow lion's hanger. He'd crawl there if he has to, just to prove the voice inside his head wrong, but after hearing himself literally gasping for air and how spent his body feels, he starts to think that maybe the voice was right. He was on the brink of collapse and immobility, all because of what he allowed himself to consume.

It makes him feel outright ashamed. Unfortunately, its a delicious meal for the hungry voice. 

_**"Stupid pig. How shameful."** _

Like a knife, its words stab Hunk in a fit of blind rage. His heart feels like it's being squeezed to death by the raw agony the voice inflicts onto him. Nothing made any sense no more. He'd done everything it had told him, pushed him and belittled him to do, yet, after all this time, all the pain and suffering he endured every single miserable day of his life - heck! - even giving up his childhood just to please some invisible malice inside his head, it was never enough. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to feel.

He was just... _dead_.

The voice continues to disgorge insults, each one hitting Hunk where it hurts the most. His body is an empty shell, hollow. His self esteem is crushed, nothing but dust. His will to live, up in flames. The voice, hungry for more. 

Deep below, in the pit of his heart, Hunk could feel something building. A hand plants itself onto his chest and Hunk flinches in disgust as the soft, squishy padding of fat touches his palm. 

_**“It’s disgusting how fat you are.”**_

How right it was. All his life, Hunk has watched pounds and pounds of fat pool off of him in a horrible, gelatinous mass. The more he ate, the more his body transformed and the more he gained weight, the more he hated what the mirror showed.

A heavy sigh slips out between his lips. Out of instinct, he looks to the left. Finally, he had reached the yellow lion’s hanger. 

**_"About time, pig."_ **

Head down and eyes lifeless, Hunk begrudgingly enters. The moment the towering doors slide open Hunk's ears pick up on not one, not two but a bunch of voices who were talking over one another but suddenly grow silent. Strangely, Hunk's feet don't stop moving until he's a good few feet into the vast room. As the door closes behind him with a hiss, his eyes revert forward. He's surprised by what he sees.

Everyone is there. 

The circle they had formed breaks as their eyes land on Hunk who stares back, shocked by their attendance. Wasn't it supposed to be just him and Pidge here? Had he misheard something? 

By no one's surprise, Shiro is the first to break the silence. "Hunk..."

Its clear he’s confused by the secret, little party they're holding which was now a bust. He discreetly eyes each and every one of them. It’s then Hunk notices something missing in the background. Whatever Pidge had planned was a lie as there were no signs of machinery or computers in sight.

Reality crashes down onto him.

This was all a set-up.

But why? Why would his own team do something like this?

_**“Maybe they’ve had enough of you and your fat ass messing up the place.”** _

Hunk zones out the voice and takes a step forward. “What’s this? You guys throwing a surprise party or something?”

“Not really.” Keith declares, crossing his arms. His usual emo glare had softened into a frown. Something was bothering him. In fact, they all look bothered. 

“No. There’s no party.” Shiro chimes in, looking mildly concerned.

Hunk raises an eyebrow. “Okaaay, so what’s all this about?”

Some of them glance at each other while Shiro keeps his eyes set on him. He steps closer.

“We need to talk.” 

Anxiety begins to bubble inside of Hunk when he hears Shiro’s stern voice. He quickly side-eyes the others standing not so far behind before returning back to his leader. 

“Talk about what? Have the Galra wreaked havoc again? Is it Zarkon-”

Lance couldn’t take it no more and joins Shiro’s side. “It’s you, buddy.”

Hunk double takes. A frown sets onto his face and the anxiety rises. Whatever they wanted to talk about, Hunk didn’t want to hear. He didn’t like where this was going and he wants out. 

“You’ve been acting strange lately.” Pidge adds. She stays in the same place but the concern Hunk sees on her face deepens. “We’ve noticed you haven’t been yourself.”

_**“They know. They fucking know.”** _

The venom poisoning his thoughts make Hunk’s anger grow at a rapid pace. In response, his brows tighten and the stare hardens into a glare. 

“I _have_ been myself.” A pinch of guilt hits him when they all flinch at his grim tone but just as fast as it came, it disappears in a flash. “A little homesick, but I’m still Hunk.”

No one looks satisfied. 

Lance slowly shakes his head. “No, you’re not. You’ve changed Hunk. You’re a completely different person.”

Off to the right, Keith and Allura step closer. They both look agitated and so is Coran, who stands close to Pidge. 

“What makes you say that?” Hunk fires back. Shiro looks him dead in the eye as Allura joins in.

“We’ve noticed you’ve been distancing yourself from the rest of us.” She tells him. “The only time we’ve seen you as a team is during meals.” 

However, Hunk notices she’s missed one thing out. He holds back a smirk. “What about training?”

Keith frowns. “Not after you nearly passed out last week.”

_'Crap! Guess she didn’t miss anything.’_

_**“Well done, pig.”** _

A drop of sweat as cold as ice cascades down the side of Hunk’s face; his fingers twitch uncontrollably. He didn't like where this was going, not one bit.

Allura looks deep into his eyes as she resumes talking. “The space mice have informed me of... _events..._ concerning you.” She takes a steady breath to compose herself as she looks on the brink of tears. “We just want to talk to you.”

“Look,” says Hunk “I don’t know what any of you are going on about but one thing’s for sure, your mice didn’t see anything, okay?”

The space mice perched on Allura’s shoulders squeak in protest. Like them, Allura takes offence to that. The space mice have been incredibly loyal to her and she trusts them with all her heart. They would never lie.   
  
“Hunk, please-”

But Hunk cuts her off. “No. I said I’m fine and that’s all you need to know. You’ve got your answer, so can we move on from this? It’s starting to feel more like an interrogation than a friendly conversation.”

Unfortunately, not one of them want to back down. Seeing this makes the anger blaze inside of him. He needs to get out of here, and fast.   
  
“Hunk-” Shiro gives it a try but just like before, Hunk cuts him off.   
  
“Shiro, as much as I respect you, this is going too far. Clearly we’re not on the same page and this looks to be going nowhere.” He turns to leave and forget about all this nonsense...

“We know what you've been hiding!”

Lance’s words freeze Hunk. The room grew so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Lance takes a nervous gulp before adding on, "we watched the camera footage." They watch as Hunk’s broad shoulders stiffen; the stench of fear chokes the air as his body begins to tremble.

The plan was so simple: get up at night, binge until it hurt, go back to his room and throw it all up, but the most important part of all -

Don’t.

Get.

Caught.

Day and night, Hunk had thoroughly put it together and for a long time, it proved to have worked. There was just one thing he completely forgot about...

Unless they were broken, the cameras captured everything.

The voice inside his head turns from one to a hundred and like a swarm of bees, they shun Hunk with their words. Shiro’s brows furrow when Hunk’s hands crack as they curl into fists.  
  
“You’re lying.” 

Lance bites his bottom lip when he hears a quiver in Hunk’s voice. He opens his mouth, ready to speak, but Shiro beats him to it. 

“We saw everything.” His voice is soft and tender. “We know you leave your room at night when everyone is asleep. We know what you do in the kitchen when no one’s around.” He pauses momentarily as memories of seeing the heart-breaking footage the cameras had kept replay in his head. “We know what happens...when you return back to your room..”

Shiro waits for a reply, but receives nothing in return. Not the least bit surprised, he continues talking as he takes slow steps towards Hunk. “The space mice...they've seen what you do...they...they told Allura everything..”

He was so close to Hunk. So close. As he takes another step, a hand reaches up to Hunk’s shoulders. “Please Hunk. Let us help you...” and as his fingertips touch the padding of the olive vest, were he and everyone in for a fright.

An arm viciously swings at Shiro, who is just able to miss it by the ends of his white tuff. He takes a couple of steps back to avoid getting hit and ignores the cries of shock behind. He keeps his focus on Hunk, who turns around to face him...or more like _glare_ at him...

A shadow of anger darkens his face. His eyes burn a ferocious fire as they glare furiously at him. Tears skim the waterline as Hunk desperately fights to keep them back. Shiro could’ve never expected such a wrathful exhibit come first-hand from the person who wore the brightest smiles and gave the biggest hugs. 

“I don’t want your help.” He spits venomously. “I’m fine just the way I am so. Fuck. Off.”

Everyone gasps and draw back in horror. Never, had anyone heard Hunk swear. They didn’t think it was possible for him to say something so foul, let alone say it directly to one of their faces. 

Shiro stares at the yellow paladin in shock. He expected something but not _that_! “H-Hunk..?”

“What I’m doing is for my own good, so leave me alone.” He turns back around and walks to the hanger’s doors. 

“W-what? No. Hunk, wait..” Shiro urges, finally able to brush off most of the shock; the others catching up. 

“You can’t change me.” Hunk whispers but Shiro is close enough to hear it, to hear the anguish coat his tone. It makes his heart ache. 

Hunk reaches the door and solemnly says, “so don’t waste your time” and waits for it to slide open like they usually do...

It doesn't.

Way off in the distance, mechanical groans and clicks lock into place as a deep growl make the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

Hunk sighs. “Open the door Yellow.”

Another low growl rattles the hanger. Hunk grits his teeth. “I’m not playing around Yellow. I said open the door.”

Another, much louder growl shakes the air. As his anger reaches boiling point, Hunk slams a fist against the smooth metal. The loud BANG echoes around the room.

“Open the door!” The fist repeatedly bangs against the metal doors as Hunk tries to break free. No matter how hard he hit or how loud he screams, the door remained shut. “Open it!”

“Hunk!”

"Stop!”

“You’re going to hurt yourself!”

_**“You’re scared.”** _

“Open it! Fucking open it!” The more he shouts, the more his heart feels like it’s being strangled to death. A tsunami of pain and misery drown him from the inside as a high-pitched ring bounces around inside his ears. “Open it!”

“Please Hunk!”

“We can work something out!”

“Hunk stop!”

_**“You’re afraid.”** _

“I want to get out!” He kicks the door with an almighty BANG! “Let me out!”

_**“What’s wrong, little pig? You frightened?”** _

Punch after punch and kick after kick pummel and whack into the door that refuses to budge as Hunk continues hitting and kicking the metal with everything he's got. The others circle around him, some breaking down as they watch their friend lose his mind. 

“Hunk! Hunk!”

_**“You’ve caused nothing but pain and misery.”** _

“Let us help!”

_**“You’re fat and repulsive.”** _

“Please! Stop it!”

_**“You’re a freak of nature.”** _

“Someone help him!”

_**“You’re nothing but a curse.”** _

“Hunk!”

_**“A monster!”** _

“Hunk!”

_**“Tell them what you really are.”** _

“Hunk stop!”

_**“Say it.”** _

“Hunk!”

_**“SAY IT!”** _

“Hunk!”

_**“SAY IT!”** _

After 17 years of suffering and hiding the pain, the dam crumbles...

**“I’M DISGUSTING, OKAY?!”**

Instantly, the pandemonium is brought to a halt as everyone is silenced by the raw emotion Hunk roars. He sharply turns to them and it’s then everyone’s hearts break as they see the waterfall of tears pour down his cheeks. 

“I’M DISGUSTING! I’M UGLY! I’M FAT AND REPULSIVE AND A MONSTER! A BIG, FAT FUCKING MONSTER! ALL MY LIFE, I’VE CAUSED NOTHING BUT PAIN AND MISERY AND SHAME TO THE PEOPLE AROUND ME WHO ACT LIKE THEY GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ME!”

“THE TRUTH IS NOBODY CARES ABOUT ME! NOBODY! NOT MY MOM! NOT MY DAD! NO ONE! EVERYONE IS THE SAME! THEY ACT LIKE I’M NOT THE PROBLEM, THAT I’M NOT THE CAUSE FOR THE SUFFERING THEY’VE HAD TO ENDURE FOR SEVENTEEN YEARS!”

“ALL MY LIFE I’VE BEEN STUCK IN THIS BODY! ALL MY SEVENTEEN FUCKING YEARS! DO YOU KNOW HOW MISERABLE ITS BEEN FOR ME, WAKING UP EVERY SINGLE DAY AND WANTING TO JUST BE THIN?! THIS FAT, THIS BODY, THIS LIFE IS A CURSE AND I AM SO GODDAMN TIRED ALL THE TIME! SO FUCKING TIRED!”

“THE DOCTORS, THE THERAPY, THE FUCKING PILLS! I WAS GIVEN SO MANY CHANCES TO CHANGE! SO MANY! BUT I GUESS LIVING AS A HUMAN PIG RUINS IT, DOESN’T IT?! BEING THIS FAT IS FUCKING TORTURE!”

“SO YEAH! I HAVE BEEN STAYING UP AT NIGHT! I HAVE BEEN EATING EVERY SINGLE THING IN THE KITCHEN JUST TO THROW IT ALL UP AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN UNTIL THE PAIN AND THE VOICES GO AWAY! UNTIL I FEEL NUMB!”

“EVERY BIRTHDAY WISH I’VE WASTED, JUST BEGGING TO WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING AND SEE A THIN, HEALTHY BOY LOOK BACK AT ME IN THE MIRROR! BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I SEE?! I SEE A BIG, STUPID PIG WHO IS OVERWEIGHT! WHO IS MORBIDLY OBESE! WHO IS NOTHING BUT A SLOB! A FREAK!”

“I’VE TRIED CUTTING THE PAIN AWAY! I’VE TRIED CUTTING OFF THE FLABS OF FAT THAT HANG OFF OF ME! HELL! I’VE EVEN TRIED SUICIDE JUST TO BE FREE OF THE PAIN AND THIS DISGUSTING BODY! I DESERVE NOTHING IN LIFE! NOTHING!”

“A PIG LIKE ME SHOULD BE BACK AT HOME WITH THE OTHERS AND BE DISGUSTING FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE OR I SHOULD JUST GO AHEAD AND FUCKING KILL MYSELF! NOBODY SHOULD EVER HAVE TO HAVE A FRIEND LIKE ME AND NO PARENT SHOULD EVER HAVE TO HAVE A PIG LIKE ME AS THEIR SON! NOBODY SHOULD EVER HAVE TO DEAL WITH A FAT PIG LIKE ME! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?!”

Hunk doesn't know how or why but the air around him feels heavy but light at the same time. It feels so wrong yet so right and despite feeling free, something was still holding him down. Slowly but surely, his vision grows clearer and the ringing inside his ears disappears. The weight he's carried for so long has been lifted from his shoulders but his head feels incredibly heavy like its filled with cement. Also, why did he feel so breathless? 

It's then he realises the room is put under a spell of silence and his eyes were glued to the floor. He did not want to move them for the floor had become somewhat interesting. Something was telling him to look up but his head said otherwise. Who knew feeling so free can make you feel so hollow? 

A broken voice cuts through the air. "Hunk.." 

Hunk shakes his head as his hands curl into fists. Well, at least tried to do before a fireball of pain explodes in them, catching him off-guard. He hisses in pain and raises his hands in front of him. When he sees them, the air is knocked out of him. Blood spills out of the many cuts that have sliced his knuckles wide open and gushes like rivers past his wrists and down his arms. Purple, blue and black bruises begin to discolour the mahogany skin in patches along his fingers that scream in agony. 

"Look at me." The same broken voice speaks. Hunk shakes his head once more, too fixated by the gruesome display. "Hunk please. Please look at me." 

"N-no." His voice cracks. "No. I..I..I can't.." 

The figure standing in front of him steps closer. "You can Hunk. You can."

"No! I c-can't. I just can't!" He objects as his body begins to tremble. "I can't do this no more." Why can't his team understand he just couldn't do it? That he couldn't face them? 

"Hunk.." In the corner of his eyes, Hunk sees a hand reach out for his broken, bloody ones. Something snaps inside of him. He staggers backwards and looks up at Lance in a blind rage of fury. The tears continue to pour out of his eyes. 

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" He screams at the top of his lungs.

Lance visibly cowers away from his infuriated friend. He didn't expect him to blow up a second time. He was only trying to comfort him but Hunk's emotions were clouding his mind. The rest of the team take the tiniest of steps forward but Hunk immediately sees it. A pair of red eyes glanders back and forth between them as two broken and bloody hands rise high into the air. 

"Get away from me!" Hunk cries, voice raspy from shouting so much. "Don't come any closer!" 

Unconsciously, he had back-peddled so much a gasp of shock shoots out from him when his back collides into the door stained red. Snot and salty tears fall down his face as he shakes like a leaf. "S-stay a-away... _please_.." A tickle begins to scrape and claw the back of his throat as something begins to churn at the bottom of his stomach, ".. _please_.." and like a switch being flicked, the churning drastically turns into a violent cramp that twists his stomach like a coiled wire.

Hunk's eyes blow wide as something rushes up his oesophagus and against his control, his lips split apart in time for a disgusting stream of vomit to shoot out. It splatters onto the floor in a horrible mess, the impact powerful, and Hunk instantly notices something alarming about it...and the strong, metallic taste in his mouth is enough to prove he isn't hallucinating...

The tiny chunks of food is present and so is the saliva, but the colour is horrifyingly different. A large puddle of red lays between him and the others, its colour and appearance easily recognisable. 

Hunk shakes his head in morbid horror as his eyes are glued to the puddle of blood near his feet; strings of blood and saliva drip down from his lips. Another wave of nausea hits him and he knows all too well what's about to follow. He throws a hand up to cover his mouth but needless to say, he is too slow to stop the next upchuck escaping him. A second, more violent stream of blood hits his palm with force. Most of it makes it through the gaps between his fingers and joins the bloody puddle, now transforming it into a red sea. 

Gagging loudly, Hunk's knees tremble as he struggles to stand. Every second makes the pain intensify in his throbbing stomach; his throat feels like he swallowed perfectly sharpened knives and a dense fog clouds his mind, the thumping against the walls of his skull are thunderclouds. Suddenly, one knee buckles and the other quickly follows as Hunk throws up more blood. Distracted, he doesn't notice his body collapse in on itself and an intense explosion of pain ignites inside his skull when the side of his head collides hard against the tiled floor. 

"HUNK!"

Once more, everything feels fuzzy and the eruption of cries sound like they're submerged underwater, except for the loud ringing deafening his ears. Black dots swarm his vision as it rapidly grows blurry and he's just able to see a group of blurred figures from the waist down sprint towards him. He fights to keep his eyes open but his body, his mind - God! he feels tired.

_'What's going on?'_

"Stay awake Hunk!"

_'Who is that?'_

"Give me something to stop the bleeding!" 

_'Why am I so cold?'_

"Hunk?! Can you hear us?!"

_'I can hear you...its cold..'_

"Coran get a pod ready!"

_'..s-so c-c-cold..'_

"Allura use your powers!"

_'..'m tired..so tired..'_

"It won't stop bleeding!"

_'..sleep sounds..n-nice..'_

"Hunk? Hunk!"

_'..s-sounds...g-g-good..'_

"He's losing consciousness!"

_'..'m sleepy..'_

"Can you hear me?"

_'..I wanna g-go..to..s-sleep..'_

"Hunk!"

_'...w-wanna..g-go...home..'_

"HUNK!"

Is the last thing he hears before the darkness consumes him...and the ringing in his ears...stops...

**Author's Note:**

> I should ask myself: was the cliffhanger really necessary? Mmm...
> 
> Remember to leave a comment or drop some kudos, us writers love that shit, and stay safe.


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